


Pity to Waste It

by The Hag (hagsrus)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M, New Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 07:47:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17320889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hagsrus/pseuds/The%20Hag
Summary: Written for Discovered Upon A Midnight Clear - January 3rd 2019 (minor edits)





	Pity to Waste It

**Author's Note:**

> Reference to Where the Jungle Ends

"So we're waiting in the car while Bodie goes in to do his extortion act and she comes out with: 'Well, aren't you going to ravish me? Aren't I pretty enough?' Knocked me right back. So I told her she was definitely pretty but I hadn't been very well. Offered her a Spangle instead."

"Yeah. I was giving her poor old dad the impression Jack the Ripper was having his wicked way with her instead of just ruining her teeth. What's this all about, anyway?" Bodie asked. "Hardly got through my door and dumped my bag than Control's on the blower. Urgent briefing."

"Been urgent since New Year's Eve," Murphy complained. "So was she pretty, Doyle?"

"If you like jailbait. Probably a stunner by now."

"See you lot have been lashing out on mistletoe." Bodie squinted at the lonely twig dangling from the overhead light. "Any luck?"

"Thought some of the girls were joining us for a New Year kiss," Lucas complained. 

"Well, you never know," McCabe said. "Now that Bodie's back from his secret mission perhaps he can pull a few in for us."

"Any good leftovers?" Bodie asked hopefully. "Those mince pies fresh?"

"Here, try some of Grandad's Special." McCabe struggled with a recalcitrant cork, then -- "Oops!"

"Brilliant," Doyle snarled. "All over the bloody pies!"

"Sorry," McCabe apologised. "Grandad did say it was a bit lively this year."

"Slaved over a hot stove, eh, Doyle?" Lucas commiserated.

"More like slaved over Tesco end-of-day mark-downs," Stuart suggested. 

"My sister -- " Doyle started.

"Sent her to get them, did you?" Bodie shook his head sadly. "Lazy sod." He reached for one of the disintegrating pies, manoeuvring it neatly into his mouth. "Pity to waste it. And the Chateau Grand-père McCabe gives it a definite tang. Any left in the bottle or did it all foam out?"

Doyle abandoned the defence of his sister's culinary honour, accepting a plastic glass of the mysterious brew. "Not a bad bit of fizz, that. Here, not going to get us plastered, is it? The Cow won't be happy if we're not ready when he summons us. What's in it, anyway?"

"Oh, it varies. Secret ingredients and depends what's growing. Plums I think this lot was," McCabe said. "Let's try one of those pies - oh." He surveyed the sodden pastry heap. 

"Try the ones underneath," Bodie suggested. "So you've all been suffering the pangs of celibacy, then?"

"Getting to the point if Stuart was a bit prettier we could ravish him -- "

"Oi!" Stuart protested.

"Well," McCabe said, "have to make do in desperate circumstances. Improvise. Give us a kiss, Stuart!"

Bodie edged away from the ensuing scuffle, Doyle following, out of earshot.

"You know what this briefing's about?"

"Bombs." Doyle shrugged. "Rumours keep changing. Been stop and start and stop again. Your op go okay?"

"Had worse. Could have done with you watching my back, though. Couple of nasty moments."

Doyle touched his arm briefly. "Got me now. And you can watch my front."

"Always a pleasure. New jeans?" 

"Miss me, did you?"

The door opened to admit Cowley and the room fell silent.

"Everyone downstairs now," he ordered. "Except Doyle and Bodie. I'll need you two on the early morning shift, and I mean early, Bodie, not straggling in with a hangover. And your full report about Belfast on my desk first thing."

"Happy New Year, sir."

"Ach, well." And Cowley turned to follow his exiting flock.

"Poor old sod missed his Hogmanay revel," Doyle said with mock-sympathy.

"Could have told me on the phone. Fancy a bit of a revel tonight?"

"What, making do with me?"

"Much more than just making do, sunshine."

A sound like a shot sent them spinning into alert, reaching for their guns, then collapsing into laughter.

"Grandad blows his cork." Bodie strolled over to investigate the explosive second bottle, picked it up and took a swig.

"Probably be blind by morning." Doyle swallowed in turn, then reached up, and plucked the mistletoe from its mooring. "Pity to waste this, an' all."

Bodie grabbed the mistletoe and pulled Doyle into his arms. After a long minute they caught their breath.

"Back to mine?" Doyle suggested. "Kept a few pies for you."

"Going to ravish me, then?" 

"Dunno if you're pretty enough. How about a Spangle?"

As the door closed behind them another bottle exploded into the rest of the soggy mince pies.


End file.
